The Killing Type
by Twistedsystem009
Summary: "You are calm and reposed, let your beauty unfold-pale white, like the skin stretched over your bones. Spring keeps you ever close, you are second-hand smoke. You are so fragile and thin, standing trial for your sins. Holding on to yourself the best you can. You are the smell before rain, you are the blood in my veins." - Brand New, The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot


THE KILLING TYPE

CHAPTER ONE

TALKING SHADOWS

* * *

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer."

Nerissa bolted upright, groping for her dagger in the darkness. Panic began to rise in her chest when all she found was the waxy stub of a dying candle. Her fingers brushed the flame, making her exclaim in shock and pain, swearing under her breath at her lack of observation. Nerissa took the saucer, carefully avoiding the puddles of wax. Clutching the sheets around her torso with one hand, she lifted the glim with the other and brought light to the shadows. She gasped at what she saw.

A man clothed in black robes leaned against the far wall, twirling her dagger between his fingers. He wore a hood, under which only his lips were visible. Something about him unnerved Nerissa terribly. Perhaps it was the slight smirk lingering on his face, or his deep, rumbling voice that filled the room and left an eerie silence in its passing.

"That's good. You'll need a clear conscience for what I'm about to propose."

Nerissa flinched slightly as she was shaken back into reality. Hot wax dripped onto her hand at the sudden movement, drying instantly on her skin. She hissed in pain, demanding through her teeth, "Who are you?"

"_I_ am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood."

"And you, you are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls. Your work, your deathcraft, pleases the Night Mother. And so, I come to you with an offering. An opportunity..." Lucien paused, his unseen gaze sweeping over Nerissa. She held the linens to her chest tightly, dark auburn curls swept over her shoulder, icy grey stare boring into the darkness beneath the hood. "to join our rather unique family."

Making a point of her displeasure at his presence, Nerissa let the silence stretch uncomfortably long.

"So, I have your rapt attention. Splendid. Now listen closely."

"On the Green Road to the north of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete."

"Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family."

Nerissa glared, her voice hard and cold as she said, "I'm not a murderer." Lucien smirked, replying, "No? The Night Mother seems to think otherwise."

"Allow me to grant you a gift. It is a virgin blade and it thirsts for blood."

He produced a dagger from his robes. It was made of ebony, embossed with intricate golden designs. Nerissa took the hilt cautiously, quirking an eyebrow.

"Now, I bid you farewell. I do hope we'll meet again soon."

"Farewell, Lachance." she murmured as the door closed, tossing the blade into the air and catching it between her fingers. "We'll be seeing each other very shortly."

* * *

Tree branches banged loudly against the side of the Inn of Ill Omen as Nerissa sat in the corner of her small room, listening to the raging storm outside. Smoke rose from the wick of a long, white taper, leaving the room dark and cold. Nerissa's cold, unblinking eyes were glued to the doorway. She was wiping the blood from her dagger, the ghost of smile lingering on her lips.

"Speaker."

Nerissa set the dagger on the table beside her as the door opened by an unseen force. She lit the candle with a flourish of her hand, leaning back in the creaky wooden chair and crossing her arms.

Lucien chuckled quietly, but it lacked a warmth. "I don't like surprises." Nerissa said simply.

"So, the deed is done." Nerissa smiled coldly. "Quite. Rufio lies in a pool of his own blood." Lucien smirked. "And what would you ask of me now, Speaker?"

"The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink.

"As a Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group, and fulfill any contracts given. You must now go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement, and attempt to open the black door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly: 'Sanguine, my Brother.'

"You will gain entrance to the Sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva.

"We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done. I'll be following... your progress."

Nerissa reached up to rub her neck. It felt as if there was a shudder lingering there. "Welcome to the family."

"Lachance," Lucien turned on his heel, removing his hand from the rusty doorhandle. "When will I get to see your face?" asked Nerissa, a mischevious grin crossing her lips.

"I suppose whenever you wish." he answered. Nerissa stood. "May I?" she asked quietly, standing not even a foot away from him. He smiled.

Nerissa studied the soft brown eyes, high cheekbones, raised eyebrows. Her fingers lingered still on his hood. "Are you satisfied, sister?"

"Yes," she answered quickly, taking a hasty step back and clearing her throat. "Do you have anymore questions?" he asked, quirking a brow. "No." Nerissa replied, once again more rapidly than normal.

"Farewell, sister."

* * *

** Hey! I'm not dead! Just really... extremely... **_**absurdly **_**lazy. I'm sorry. Please don't yell at me. **


End file.
